


Retrieval

by Usedtobehmc



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 10:51:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/502731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Usedtobehmc/pseuds/Usedtobehmc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What I imagine Dean and Castiel’s first encounter was like.  Castiel rescues a tortured soul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Retrieval

In Hell, nothing was the same as it was on Earth.  What Castiel **saw** in Hell was a gnarled, skeleton-thin creature covered in what looked like black tar and smelled like unspeakable brands of filth.  What few teeth it had were caked in dried blood and small ribbons of flesh.  From behind the mangled teeth came a growl, almost pig-like. 

 

But it still **felt** human.

 

“Castiel!”  He heard from behind him, the sounds of a battle finally penetrating the thick fog of morbid fascination that had invaded his brain.  It was Feriel, a close friend and worthy soldier who had helped him plan the siege of Hell.  “His soul, is it intact?” 

 

The concern was not for the human, but for the success of the mission, Castiel noted to himself. 

 

“I believe so.”  He approached the thing, which spit and lashed out as he got close, too consumed with rage and animalistic hatred to realize that it didn’t stand a snowball’s chance…. well.

 

Castiel raised his hand and unleashed the light of his grace upon the thing, pulling a high squeal from it’s burned-out throat. 

 

Definitely pig-like, thought Castiel. 

 

It’s hands flew up to cover its face, writhing and seizing in pain.  Castiel batted the hands away with ease, paying no heed to the broken, jagged nails that scratched at him.

 

“Castiel, we have been here too long.  Their defenses regroup.  A retreat is in order.  We have his soul, let us depart this wretched pit.” 

 

“Just a few seconds longer.”  Castiel thrust his hands into the chest of the creature, a sickening wet pop and noxious smell rising from the wound.  The scream was deafening, even to Castiel’s ears.  The power emitting from this tortured soul was great; hard to handle.  The Angel knew peripherally about the power of souls, enough to be careful as he pulled it from the sticky, toxic chest cavity that held it prisoner.

 

Concentrating further, Castiel used his grace to place The Shell around the newly liberated soul.  The visage that had carried this small, nuclear bomb around for close to 30 years before its damnation began to form into a viable shape.  A human with two legs, two arms, a head of closely-cropped, sandy blond hair. 

 

The hum of power that flowed between them intensified until there was an actual human, a man, in his arms.  He took but a moment to note the contrast between the two creatures before him: one evil and ugly, the other righteous and pure with barely concealed light.  

 

It did not wake, or stir, or even breathe as Castiel gathered the precious cargo and tucked the small human beneath his wing. 

 

“Let us depart.”  Castiel gave the signal to Feriel, who sounded the horn that would alert their elite troops to fall back.

 

A sharp tug stopped him short, and he realized that the burnt-out carcass was clutching at his human’s ankle with thin, matchstick fingers.  The skull’s jaw fell open, noises of protest bubbling out like dead insects as it scrabbled for purchase against the soft, newly reformed flesh. 

 

Enraged, Castiel drew his sword with one hand and gripped the human firmly by the arm with the other.

 

Speaking Enochian to a this creature was pointless; they didn’t understand the language and the sound of it actually caused it physical pain.  But Castiel spoke to it briefly anyway before thrusting the sword of blue flame into its chest.  Loosely translated, “He has no more need for a cloak of filth.”  The creature broke like kindling and it’s nauseating screeches were finally silenced. 

 

As the angels retreated from Hell, Castiel noticed he’d left a highly-visible scar on the humans arm; a mistake made in the heat of the moment that was very unlike him, he had to admit. 

 

Humans were so fragile, he thought, spreading his wings.

 

 

 


End file.
